Match?

My therapist thinks it's about time for me to stop pining, and start dating. Apparently it's unhealthy to think about your ex so much and "wait" for him to make a move. Sure, he kissed me, and we sleep in the same bed sometimes, but he's also the one who tells me not to overthink it, wonders why we have to talk about it, tells me he's dating. So whatever. I need to get over it and move on, right? He's had almost 5 months to say something besides "I don't know how I feel about you."

She suggested I do something like Match.com. Even if I don't meet "the one," maybe I can make some new friends from it. I did eHarmony last year on a bet from my aunt, and met a new friend (and some creeps). It was a fascinating experiment, but maybe if I took it seriously I could get something out of it. Only problem is, you have to sign up and pay for that stuff.

Other options? Well, there's always Meetup. I can join groups who do stuff, which would get me out of the house and meeting people. I need to make friends too, she says. That's one of her goals for me for the new year: make more friends. She's a smart cookie, that one.

Watch the day away

I miss my girls. On a day like this, the day after New Years, the four of us would be getting together to watch a marathon of our show. It's 6 seasons in, but usually we would pick a season and start again from the beginning, just for fun. We would cook breakfast at 7am, crack the champagne, and start watching. By 8 at night Jennifer would be asleep on the floor, Amanda would be drunk, Rebecca would have gone home, and I would be the last one actually watching. It's part of the obsessiveness. I think I was the only one ever really watching.

So today, I decided to do it myself. I woke up late and put on our show, season 1, episode 1, and started my movie marathon. I own all the seasons, and I copied them to my iPad, so I'm just sitting with it propped on my pillow. I did what we always did during the marathons - I did my toenails and fingernails. I drank coffee instead of champagne, and I ate popcorn instead of breakfast pizza, but it still felt like a little bit of "home."

I miss my old home a bit. I miss having my apartment, my dog, my car, my friends, a job. I'm lonely here. I suppose it would help if I left the house every now and again, or joined some sort of club, but I just don't have the energy right now. My meds are here, according to the note left on the mailbox, but the office downstairs is closed till Monday, so I can't get them. I'm not blaming this homesickness on lack of meds, but it's sure not helping.

I'm done feeling like I'm on vacation. I'm done with this. I need a job; something to do, somewhere to live where I can call it my own. I need a life of my own.

Happy new year!

I can not believe it's 2011 already. It seems like the past year went by super quick with all the amazing things that have happened. I wonder what in the world is going to happen this year....

Resolutions for 2011:

1. Well, we know get a job and an apartment is number 1 on there. I have another interview on Monday, and a potential one later in the week. I think I should hear from more people now that the holidays are over. Right? Right. And of course, what comes from having a job is getting an apartment on my own again. It's been 4 or so months that i've been here, and I am grateful, but I miss having a place of my own. I miss having some alone time and my own stuff.

2. Actually train for the marathon and run them to the finish. I am so not prepared for march's marathon, nor any real running, since I have been extremely lazy the past few months. I need to get back out there on the road and prepare! I spent tonight with my cousins, and even invited me to come out in may for a half marathon in their hometown, so that's another one on the books.

3. Hm. Shouldn't you always have there of something? Good things come in threes.... Right? You know what? I'm going to keep up this blog. I really enjoy getting everything out on "paper." I know most of the time I'm talking to myself, but I'm ok with that. It has been extremely helpful to just talk it all out. So I think I will continue this journey with you, and thanks for listening.

Happy new year!

It's all the same

Adam and I had another fight last night about my involvement in AA. He talked about what worked for him in his first year; how he fought it tooth and nail, and then gave in to it. "I know it's worked for you. I saw how great it was for you in your first year." His face turned red. "You have no idea! You weren't there!"

And I wasn't. After we broke up I lost my mind. I slept with my boss, I went out to drink every single night till I was so drunk I fell asleep on the train, I acted like the 25 year old fool I was. I was broken by our breakup, and everything about me showed it. But I wasn't there for him. I avoided him. I couldn't see him. I couldn't stand it. The pain was deep, and I knew he wouldn't succeed with me in the way.

When Adam and I get together we often talk about our breakup. "Why does it always come back to this," I asked. "It was a watershed moment in both of our lives," he replied. And it's true. It was something that changed me forever. And him. But how will it work out in the end?

My first date

Reverb today asks, what central story is at the core of you. My core, eh? I have a few stories that have defined my life, but none more than another moment in time.

It was the night of my first official date. Jay was taking me to the movies, and to dinner. I was 15, and so excited to be let out "alone" with him. Of course, his dad would accompany us everywhere, but that didn't matter. We were still together, still almost alone in public. We could walk together and hold hands, kiss in the movie theater, just chat over dinner. I was madly in love for the first time, and ready to share my first date with him.

His dad came in the red van and opened the door for me. Out stepped Jay with a bright red rose in hand, all dressed to the nines. I had on my best dress, and he escorted me to the car, assuring my dad that I would be back before 9.

I don't remember any of the date, but I do remember them dropping me off later to an empty house. No car was in the driveway, and the house was dark. Where could my parents have gone this late? I knew something must be up. Amazingly, I hadn't lost my key that week, and I let myself in the front door. I called out, and then noticed a note on the staircase.

"Took mom to the hospital. Be back for you. Dad."

And I knew. It wasn't just a trip to the hospital. She had no fever, no cold, no broken arm or leg. It was her mind which had gone. What had happened? Why had they left me alone? Why couldn't I be a part of whatever was happening? I sat down on the stairs and wept for the last time in years. How long I sat there, I couldn't tell you, but my dad came in to find me sitting there, and brought me to the car. "Your mom took an overdose. She's ok, but she doesn't want to see anyone." We went anyway, and sat in the waiting room for hours until she changed her mind.

I remember seeing her face; she was sitting up and smiling, but she looked pale, unlike herself. The rest of it fades to black, but that's when I knew everything was different. That I wasn't wrong about how strange things had become at home. I wasn't losing my mind. She was.

Therapy saves my life

"He who thinks much is not suited to be a party member: too soon, he thinks himself through and beyond the party."

I'm following this guy on Twitter who does Nietzsche quotes all day. I liked this one. I have trouble being in any sort of group, or with group-think. I don't belong to a political party, even. And I think that's where my trouble with AA comes from. I'm able to think myself through and beyond the party. I can see where it has amazing benefits, and it really is a program that was ahead of it's time - something that is transformational. It's worked for millions of people, and failed millions more.

My therapist is behind me on this. "I have you, what do I need a sponsor for?" She agreed, "Many people work the steps with the help of a therapist instead of a sponsor. However you want to do it, or even if you just want to continue with therapy, is fine by me. If it works for you, keep doing it." When I moved back here the first thing I did was find a therapist. I've been in and out of therapy since 1995, and when I'm out of it I'm crazy. Therapy keeps me sane; it's something I can rely on to help me reach inside myself and find the truth.

It works a lot like AA, I think. Therapy is a program of self-knowledge and change, if you do it right. And it addresses the underlying emotional wreckage more deeply. As you can tell, I really love therapy. I rely on it. It's one party I can get behind.

Really? Do I have to quit?

Sigh. I've been sighing a lot lately. I know diet Coke isn't the best thing to drink, but I just read something that says it might be worse for people who have already messed up their livers. Of course, a lot of this article just sounds like fear-mongering, but there is evidence that aspartame is bad for you, and bad for weight-loss.

So is 2011 the year I quit drinking soda? It won't be that hard; I only started drinking sodas when I quit drinking booze. But I'm sure it will up my coffee intake. I drink coffee all day long, unless I'm drinking soda. I don't put sugar in it, but I do put fake, powdered creamer, which can't be good for you at all, but has no calories. No calories is more important when you're on your 6th cup of coffee. Even skim milk would put me at 2 glasses a day, which is good for you but bad for calorie counting.

I'm a little obsessive, I know, but my pants don't fit. Again, I should go for a run, but I'm not going to. Why? Because I'm lazy.

Anyway, I'm out of diet Coke right now and I may just not buy any more. I think I'll be fine without it. Instead, I'll try to start drinking water again. I used to drink a lot of water. I just always have to be drinking something. I have a wobbly wrist problem - I just like to tip it back and forth with some sort of liquid in it.

Something funny happened on the way to the basement

Reverb asks, what's the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year? Well, we've already discussed the gift of unemployment, my gift of Europe to myself, Adam's Christmas kiss, and the fact that Angry Birds on the iPad has become an amazing gift of laziness, but there's a nice little gift I just received for the end of the year.

There's a little store downstairs in my dad's apartment building. He has just the basics: laundry detergent, boxed dinners, wine, laundry, and packages. He's a busy guy, with two buildings and 18 floors each of apartments. He seems to know everyone, and is always smiling and chatting when I go down to get packages. He's helped me numerous times by emailing when something urgent comes in.

The other day my dad went down to get something and Mohammed looked especially busy. "You know, my daughter is unemployed. She could help you during the holidays." And so it began. I brushed off my dad's comment when he told me later, but this morning Mohammed emailed me and asked me to come down. Because I can't say no, I went.

And something funny happened. I walked in and immediately he began showing me how to do stuff and telling me how much things were. "So when you get the laundry you tag it like this," he said, showing me where to staple those little pink tags you get on your dry cleaning. Apparently they go through dry cleaning just fine. I always wondered. "Always check id. It's not worth the fine."

"I'm going home overseas next month, and I'll put you in charge. You're responsible. You've worked retail before, right?" "Right," I said. Though it's been a while.

And so right then and there, Mohammed trusted me with his store. Someone saw something in me and gave me responsibility without even seeing me in action. Someone hired me. I know, it's not a full-time job, and it's not permanent, but someone saw fit to hire me after an interview. I'm not worthless, after all. I can work. And with that simple little action, Mohammed gave me some self-esteem back.

Sometimes Post Secret is so right

Don't force me out of bed

My dad keeps calling me today. He's over at my cousin's house painting with all my cousins and aunt, and he keeps calling. My grandma is downstairs in my cousin's apartment that they're moving out of. "Why don't you take grandma to Costco." "Grandma is making cupcakes, why don't you go help her." I know he knows.

My dad isn't great at reading people, but he's developed a way to know when I'm depressed. I suppose if I think about it, while living with me it's pretty obvious. I stayed in bed today till 4 just converting files and listening to music. Just me and the laptop in bed, wasting the day. I finally got up and put on some normal people clothes and ate some breakfast/lunch/almost dinner.

So I think he knows that I'm depressed. I can't seem to function today. It's getting worse every day. I know I need to run, or just leave the house and do something, but I don't have the energy. I'm out of diet Coke and almost out of coffee, and I don't care enough to go to the store. Now that's depression. When I don't have caffeine and I don't care? I have a problem.

I really hope my meds come today.

From this moment

It only took a second or two, but what happened changed the course of my life, and has reverberated till this day. Reverb asks today, what was a defining moment of this year or a series of events? As you all know this year was full of them, but the moment that effected (and affected) me most took seconds.

There I was, peacefully spacing out and partly working on three things at once. In my office with the sunny, sliding glass doors and the beautiful view of the neighboring building's wall, I sat with the heater on trying to get warm. It was forever cold in my office, despite the seasonal weather outside. Piled in the corner were boxes for an event I was organizing, and I had just gotten off the phone with the caterer, preparing for a tasting the next day.

My office mate was out for the day, so the only sounds in my office were the low hum of the radio; more like white noise taking up a portion of my brain. I checked email again, and glanced at Facebook, avoiding the massive spreadsheet on my screen.

Then he walked in. "This isn't working. I need you to go talk to David." And out he walked. A second, a moment, that's all there was. I didn't know what to think. Just last week he told me I was doing a great job, so I wasn't sure what the reprimand was referring too, but I had a feeling, a feeling deep in my gut that something was really wrong.

I walked two offices over to HR and closed the door. I sat in his black leather swirly chair, and said plainly, "I don't know what just happened. What just happened?"

"Anne, we have to let you go."

Let me go? Let me go where? What would happen without that space behind the big oak desk? "We won't contest unemployment," he said. "Let's go get your things."

And so I walked out. In minutes it was over. I was in my car, weeping for the first time in months. I was stunned. Everything would have to change. Even with unemployment I wouldn't be able to stay where I was; I would have to move in with my dad. Medical insurance companies would deny me medications, and I would have to desperately hunt for the pills that keep me alive. My dog would go to my mom to live, along with my car. I wouldn't find a job in this economy. I wouldn't be able to keep my life. Everything would change.

And everything did change. Now, I sit here on the beige couch under the single floor lamp ignoring the spreadsheet of jobs in front of me, and occasionally glancing at Facebook. I've been unemployed for 4 months, and I've worn a spot in this couch. Everything changed.

Angry birds took my sleep

I totally forgot how satisfying it can be to play video games. Michael turned me on to this game called Angry Birds, and now I just can't stop playing it. It's nice to have something to go to when you can't sleep, and this is just as mindless as drinking but it's only making me frustrated and laugh instead of drunk.

I used to play video games as a kid. I had a Nintendo and would play baseball, Mario, and Bubble Bobble (look it up, it's awesome). I used to come home from school and my mom would be playing, and so I would pick up the other controller and together we would beat different games. It was fun to play, and to bond, and to space out. I suppose you learn all sorts of stuff from video games without knowing it, but I really just like the little puzzles.

I can't sleep. I just tried and laid down for an hour. All I got out of it was the urge to reply to an email I had been avoiding. It was my friend Roberta on the other coast asking me how my love life is. I was helping her plan a second date when she asked. I just didn't feel like replying, "The only person outside my family I ever see is Adam," and she knows the story, there. I replied, and told her I was just going to join a nunnery and live vicariously.

You know I haven't dated anyone in 3 years? It's strange. I've never been single this long. In fact, I was never single from the time of my first boyfriend until I broke up with Adam. And then I only had a few months before Michael and I started dating. But since Michael there's been no one. That's kind of sad.

No excuses

“One definition of a coward is simply, someone who makes a lot of excuses. Most of us have enough excuses to last a lifetime. The sooner we let go of them and get on with living, the better off we are.”

God do I hate when my bipolar rears it's ugly head. I try to keep it in check with my meds and not let it have the better of me, and I think I do a really great job of it. I don't let it become my excuse for bad behavior, or alternate behavior. I don't let mania be an excuse for treating people poorly, or depression an excuse for abandoning my friends. I don't make excuses for my behavior - I like to take responsibility for myself. Just because I have a mental illness doesn't give me license.

And I remember all these things, even when my symptoms start presenting themselves. I suppose it's a good thing to have them every now and again so I can remind myself why I take medications and how hard I really do fight to be "normal." I try hard to be a good person. I try to be optimistic and loving. I try really hard, all the time. And sometimes I just can't do it anymore. I know it's the lack of the meds that's doing it this time. Is that an excuse? Can I start acting depressed? No. But is it honest to hide how I'm feeling? Shouldn't I tell the person I'm living with, or people I'm interacting with? No. I'm really good at faking happy. I can do it a little longer till the meds come.

Ugh, I hate feeling like this. I feel so vulnerable and weak. I feel like any arrow, not even a well aimed one, could seriously hurt me right now. I just need to curl up and do nothing till this blows over. What a week to need to be alone. My entire family is in town. I won't get any alone time. Half this post was spent answering questions and then trying to get my typing groove back.

Ducks on the wind

Tonight I had to take one of those little tests doctors give you every couple of weeks to see how you're doing, and I answered honestly, as usual. "A little on the depressed side, I see," she said. And yeah, I am. I do have all the symptoms of depression, minus the planning to kill myself thing. I'm feeling tearful, sleepless, not hungry, irritated at myself, not interested in things, etc, etc. I do sometimes have trouble when I'm on the metro. I think about jumping in front of the trains, or pushing someone else, depending on how I'm feeling. I usually either stand really far from the platform, or stand on the edge and let the wind from the oncoming train push back my hair.

That's what I was doing tonight. I stood there at the edge, listening to the rumble of the train coming into the station, and thought about timing. How late would you have to jump to go under the train, not into the window. But I never thought of doing it - it's just an intellectual enterprise. Again, a test I wouldn't think to do. But I did close my eyes when the train was upon me and let it grab my hair and sweep it back from my face.

There were ducks in the park again. The park between the metro and the therapist has a flock of ducks that live in it, apparently. Every week they are just hanging about, looking like they're about to settle in for the night. They wander about the length of this small park and quack almost in unison. Ducks don't seem to mind the cold or anything else, for that matter. They just waddle a bit when you are closing in on them, but they don't run, they're not scared. I wonder what it would be like to be a duck? I'm sure ducks don't get depression for no reason. I bet ducks in cages get depressed, but anything living in a cage must at some point hate it's life.

I don't hate my life. I don't hate myself. I'm just depressed.

Til the sun turns black

I'm sitting here listening to melancholy music, and that's where it starts. I start listening to it, and it's really just echoing how I feel inside. I often don't know it until I find myself wanting to weep along with the low howls of Ray Lamontagne's voice. "Time goes slowly when you're only waiting, Till the sun turns black." The lyrics to this song aren't that depressing, but try any of his others, really. They're all beautifully done, but can be horribly depressing.

Anyway, I can feel the lack of Abilify. I can feel the cracks in my armor generating, slowly creeping up from their origins, reaching for me like tendrils. I can see myself in bed, curled into a tight ball to protect myself from something, the something that's coming. I can see the tears rolling down my cheeks, the self-pity hammering me into bits. It's coming. I can tell.

I'm out of Lexapro as of tomorrow. I'm praying my meds get here tomorrow. I don't know how long I can go without the Abiilfy before I just want to stay in bed all day and cry. As of now, I just want to stay in bed, but I can't sleep and I can't cry. I want to sit under the showerhead and weep, but I can't get it out yet.

I suppose being off meds for a day or so might actually help me. Instead of being chemically balanced I can be a little unbalanced and more able to feel things. But I'm afraid. My therapist and I talked about anger tonight, and all the anger I have bottled up that I can't even touch. I used to punch things and break things until I discovered drugs. Now that I don't have drugs, what am I going to do with all that anger? Should I go off meds while I have the chance and just let myself really feel? Really get angry and bring up all those old emotions? I suppose under the guidance of a therapist and a psych doc I could do it and they could stop my little experiment any time by putting me back on meds.

Bad idea. I know. Experimenting with your sanity probably is up there with jumping off a building to test gravity. So, we're not going to do that. We're going to wait patiently for our drugs and then immediately take them in their proper doses. Just like always. And we'll deal with our anger another day.

Rule 62

"Taking yourself too seriously is mental vanity."

Have you heard that yet, in AA? Rule 62, Don't take yourself so seriously. I think a lot of people in the program have this problem. To spend all your time focusing on digging out the inner you by looking at your faults and then trying to remove them... it always seemed to me like an effort in self. Sure, it's about trying to be a better person in the world, which benefits everyone, but it's a great tool for looking inward and focusing your attention on yourself. And even the Big Book says that alcoholics are by definition selfish. So it makes sense that this becomes a self-involved program.

But there is this "rule" that I love. Don't take yourself so damn seriously. Adam has it written somewhere, and I always have to remind him. He takes himself very seriously sometimes. I probably don't take myself seriously enough. I think about myself a lot and my needs, but I sure as hell don't act on them. I have a tendency to act according to other people's needs. I don't look out for myself enough; say what I need and not take no for an answer. I worry too much about others.

And I think that's a codependent behavior, right? Again, it comes down to the underlying emotional problem, not the alcoholism. I really believe that I can't drink like normal folks, but it's because I have emotional problems and baggage. Will I be able to drink once I get rid of those? Well, that's a trick question: you never truly get rid of your emotional baggage. It's always there. Sure, you can strive to be perfect, but then you're taking everything too seriously, again.

Life is fun! Or at least, it should be. Misery is optional.

Grow up, kid

Every now and again we talk about emotional sobriety here. It's an old topic. Even Bill talked about it in 1958.

"Emotional sobriety encompasses our ability to live with balance and maturity." I like that definition best. But what is maturity? It can be defined as "how a person responds to the circumstances or environment in an appropriate and adaptive manner." So emotional sobriety is your brain catching up with your body, essentially. You no longer act like an ass when out in public because you're drunk, and it's time to stop opening your mouth and letting every thought out, or never opening your mouth and talking about your needs. It's time to grow up.

I think this is where my problem lies. I do oftentimes open my mouth a little too much and let people know what I need, but if it's important I tend to keep it under wraps after a while. I usually speak up once, and let it go at that. I am ridiculously honest, which can be a fault and a benefit.

So how do you be mature? There's something great from WikiHow about how to be mature. Learn manners (check), use proper grammar (check), be slow to anger (sometimes check), be an active listener (check), don't swear except to make a big point (ummm... damn.). It's a great list of do's and dont's for how to be mature. And it proves there really is a WikiHow for everything.

Space, the first frontier

Man am I spacing out. I keep sitting here and then drifting off into space. I'm not even thinking about anything. I'm just... spacing. I don't know what's wrong with me today. I think there's just so much on my mind that my mind has given up and just gone out without me. I'm even watching a movie and I keep watching, and then spacing out on that, then going back to the computer....

Wow, I was just gone for another ten minutes. It's taking me forever to write a post that I'm not even writing anything about. Adam just told me not to overthink, and so I think I'm just underthinking. I'm not even thinking about the obvious. Damn.

3 year angry men

"After a 3-year abstinence, men from the recovering alcoholics group displayed greater signs of hostility and covert aggression. They were different from non-alcoholics on measures for indirect aggression, irritability, negativism, suspicion, resentment, and guilt."

Interesting. Apparently the aggression and anger doesn't just go away when you stop drinking. DUH. Jesus, really? They had to do a study? There is a thing called sobriety, which is excluding substances from your system, and then there is a thing called emotional sobriety. Emotional sobriety is where you take responsibility for your actions and try to change them for the better. Which is what a lot of people do through the steps, or through prayer and meditation.

Adam and I talked about it the other day, and we both agreed that alcohol is but a symptom of our emotional problems. He told me today we have a lot of the same problems, and he's right. We are both a little contrary, a little aggressive sometimes, not great at saying what we need. It leads to some miscommunications between us.

You know, though, I don't know how much clearer I can be about anything big. It's just the little stuff we argue about, like tonight I thought we were going to dinner and he thought I had eaten. Neither of us voiced anything about dinner, just made assumptions. And you know what assumptions do. We argue like little kids, too. He pinched me tonight! Bastard. I don't know what this has to do with the article. I'm just rambling at this point. See, I just got home from his house and we took a nap together, again. I love it. It's so comfortable to be with him. He's a great cuddler, but I just wish he would kiss me. I just wish he would be spontaneous and dangerous sometimes. He's much more of an overthinker than an actor. I can't expect him to be anything he's not, but I'm so afraid to make any sort of move for fear of rejection. We'll never get anywhere this way.

Damnit.

Packages, packages

So I'm officially out of one med, almost out of another, and I only have the third one because Michael gave me his supply. My meds are supposed to be here this week, and I really hope it's today or tomorrow. I have a withdrawal headache, and I don't feel as up as I usually do, but I'm not depressed or manic. I still have a few days of the antidepressant. I have the anti-psychotic. It's the second anti-depressant I don't have.

It's interesting that I'm on two types of anti-depressants instead of just a higher dose of one. Why is that? I wonder if I could go off the Lexapro and just keep the Abilify. I'll have to talk to the doc. Of course, the Abilify is more expensive, but I feel better on it. It's noticeable. I do get slightly manic, but only happy manic, not spendy or crazy manic.

I had to get four new tires this morning, and it only sort of made me want to cry. I'm really frustrated because it's half of an unemployment check. I just don't have the kind of money I used to have, and I can't keep paying this crap. I'm maxed out on one credit card, and half maxed on the other. And I'm only paying the interest each month, really. God. At least I don't have to pay my car or insurance till February because I overpaid so much last year.

Joy to the world, the dog has come

Reverb: What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

Ordinary? Well, I could say getting cookies in the mail, when Adam came out of the airport, or getting fired, but none of those were ordinary moments. All of them were once in a lifetime, or extraordinary events. But one thing that happened all the time made me especially happy one day.

I had had a bad day at work, as usual. I was feeling like I wanted to scream, or cry, or both. My boss just... well... he was just him. I left work downhearted and walked to my car across four lanes of traffic, in the concrete jungle. I was thinking how I just needed to get away, how I needed a new job, how I was just depressed. I had been depressed for half a year, at least. Just a low level depression, but enough to put me to bed at 8am every night.

I drove down the highway contemplating change. Anything to get out of where I was - to feel better. I thought about going home for a week, or just upright moving somewhere else. I thought about taking a day off and heading for the mountains. I daydreamed all the way home.

But when I walked in the door I was greeted with squeaking and kisses. He leaped into my arms and licked my face, and I was happy again. Just that simple love of a dog made everything else alright. Everything in that moment was joy and love; the love of a little dog.

And now he's over at my mom's, and has really become her dog. It makes me a little sad, and I miss him, but both of them are happy, and that makes me happy. I'm glad I could give her something to love that would love her back in the same way.

So one tiny little dog has caused innumerable joy across my family. Thanks puppy.

Recap: National Football Day

So I didn't make it on a run today, but I did get to see Emily and her family. She's in town for a week with her family visiting her parents and I got to go over and eat warm turkey sandwiches with lots of gravy, and homemade apple pie. Oh man, so good. The pie especially. It was easy, too, they offered me a beer and I just said no. When they started mixing up the Bailey's milkshakes I just said I should get going and headed back home. I blamed the snow, but I really didn't want to hang out while they all got wasted. They're a very drunk family, but very funny and wonderfully supportive.

Adam texted this morning, after reading yesterdays post, and said, "Sometimes you're really thick." I honestly don't know what he means. I honestly don't know what you mean! He's been telling me he doesn't know how he feels about me, and that he doesn't want anything, so why shouldn't I believe him? It was a wonderful kiss, but I am taking it as just that: a kiss. It doesn't mean he wants me, unless he says so. Right? I mean, I'm trying not to read into anything. I'm trying to be objective here. 3 weeks ago I would have taken it as a sign of something. Should I? I told him I'd come back and test the mistletoe again, but he didn't text back.

Anyway, I had pie, again, so it's time to go for a run tomorrow. I'll have lots of time to space out or think then. I'll probably space. It's nice to just stare at the scenery when you run. It's like meditation time. You get to clear your mind of everything but the sound and feel of your feet hitting the pavement and the feeling in your lungs. Sometimes I count my steps just for the rhythm of it. 1,2, 3, 4....

Mom

Ok, I am mad at my mom.

"I couldn't stand the pain and emotional distress of a reunion like that again so please understand when I turn down any future invitations. You mean well, I know, but you inflict pain where you do not mean to and I can't allow myself to be hurt again.

I love you very much. I want with all my heart for you to be happy. I wish I could make you happy. Some things we must do on our own and finding happiness is one of those things."

Seriously? She's accusing me of wanting the family to be together again. I'm not a child. I know that's not going to happen. I just hate that she has to do something like that. It makes me not trust her anymore. She's just so freaking crazy. But I get it. It's hard for her. It's trying to be with a family you abandoned.

Damnit. I have a new resentment.

Mental illness isn't cool

Ok, I hate "I can haz" cats anything, but this one caught my eye over on If You're Going Through Hell. She's got a great blog over there, and tonight she was talking about how teens in England think it's cool to be mentally ill. I can see where they're coming from. There's a lot in the news about cutting and anorexia. Every actress has admitted to it already. I can see where they would think it's a way to be popular, to fit in.

But it's just not as cool as it seems. There are some horrible things that come with mental illness. You can lose everything and everyone in your life. Money flies out of your hands (if you're manic), or you can't physically force yourself out of bed (depression). I've been weeks without a shower before because I just didn't have the energy to do it. It was just too overwhelming. That's not cool, that's stinky. And when you have cuts all over you you do nothing but worry people and invite infection. And you end up with horrible scars. My friend Lisa has huge scars all over her thighs and it's just horribly depressing.

What worries me are those pro-ana websites. I worry about girls who think that kind of thing is attractive. I've never met a man who thought so, or a woman. It's just scary and sad. It's a horrible mental illness that can lead to death, so please don't purposefully do it to be cool. God, having daughters would be so hard. Having kids will be hard.